


Pale

by whiskey_bumblebee



Category: Burn This - Wilson
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:28:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25583629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskey_bumblebee/pseuds/whiskey_bumblebee
Summary: Collection of my writing about Pale :) organized roughly chronologically.For this piece, warnings for foul language and innuendo.
Relationships: Pale (Burn This)/Reader, Pale (Burn This)/You
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	1. NY(F)C

You were exhausted by the time you made it off the plane, only a five hour flight but an overnight all the same. Pale had sent a cab, knew he’d be too busy to come and get you. He was pissed about it, but that wouldn’t change the fact he had meetings.

Dropping your body into the cab and resting the side of your head against the cool glass, you took a moment to breathe. You were grateful for all of this. Grateful you’d be seeing Pale after a couple of weeks in Vancouver, grateful you could afford to fly instead of drive, grateful your man had sent a cab for you...

But man, those airplane seats were no good for anybody.

The Williamsburg bridge came up in front of you, and you looked out at your city on the river. The sun was still protesting that it had to rise on a day this cloudy, hung back behind the clouds and settled on pink instead of bright or grey.

Your heart pushed up against your ribcage as you thought about Pale. Was he still in bed? Had he left for work already? 

“What day is it?”

Your voice was almost foreign, so dry from the lack of real air.

“It’s a Sunday, Miss. The 4th.”

You nodded, didn’t want to dry out your throat any more.

He wouldn’t be working, not on a Sunday. Looking again at the sun as it begged for a few more minutes, you knew he’d be in bed. Tangled up in a thin white sheet, his long legs sticking out from under it, face pressed tight against the pillow. 

You’d go to his place to shower, you thought. Didn’t wanna waste any time dropping off your luggage, you could catch the subway later.

“Actually, could you take me to a different address? I wanna go see my boyfriend.”

You bit your lip and smiled a little at that. You’d never get away with it in his company, calling him that. His voice popped into your mind, saying “what, we thirteen or somethin’?”

“Sure, what is it?”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

You barely managed to turn your key in the lock before the door was flung open, and your head was being pressed tight into his chest.

“Pale, ow.”

He let you go immediately, pressed a kiss to your temple. 

“What are you doing up already?”

“I knew you’d be comin’ back today, thought you’d be starving from the fuckin’ tiny little vegetarian meal. The fuck is that anyway? A dinner roll and crackers? A grape?”

You laughed and walked into the kitchen, smelled hashbrowns and pancakes. 

“Shit Pale, this does smell good.”

“Damn right it does, now where’s my kiss?”

You smiled and pressed a firm kiss to his lips, let yourself shed all the nights you’d spent alone like an outer layer. 

He broke away, breathing all heavy.

“Look at that,” He said softly, running his hands over your sides to check you’d been eating right without him. Didn’t want you to starve or nothin’. “You got me outta practice, I’m fuckin’ winded.”

“Catch your breath baby, plenty more where that came from.” You smiled and kissed his cheek sweetly.

“Where are we going for lunch?”

"Italian joint.”

You looked up at the buildings around you, the street filled with Italian restaurants, gelato, arancini, pizza...

“No shit, we’re in Little Italy.”

“Two more blocks. Is it alright if I order for you? I know some chicks don’t like that shit. I just know this guy and I know what’s good and-”

Smiling, you took his hand, the one draped over your shoulder already. 

“I’m just gonna ignore the fact you’re talking about other chicks and say it’s fine.”

“Nah, ain’t like that. Haven’t had another chick since you nearly broke your fuckin’ ankle on the street outside my apartment.”

Pale turned, took you up the stairs to the restaurant. Remembering the memory fondly, you thought about when you’d just met. 

“Mmm, that’s what got you, huh? Saw a girl with weak ankles and said ‘that’s the one’?”

His stomach flipped when you talked like that, _the one._ You sounded so confident, like nothing else could even happen that wasn’t you two. Fortunately, you were being whisked to a table at the back so Pale had a minute to recover.

“Yeah then you saw an asshole in a leather jacket with coke under his fingernails and you thought ‘that’s the one’?”

“Exactly.” You teased your lip in your mouth as Pale read the wine menu.

“Are you tryna get fucked in the back of this place? Shit, lookin’ like that, I won’t hold back.”

His hand was already hot on your thigh.

“Nah, let’s be fuckin’ civilized. Drink wine and slurp pasta.”

Pale’s eyebrows shot up and he lifted both his hands in surrender. Your thigh acutely felt the loss of his hand. 

“Whatever you want.”

“Except not really cos you’re ordering?”

“Exactly. You can pick the wine if you want.”

“Really?”

Pale glanced at you over the top of the menu. All you could see were his eyes, but you saw the smirk regardless.

“No.”

“Lemme stop in here real quick?”

“Why? Yeah, whatever.”

He struck a match to light a cigarette and leaned on the pole outside the tourist gift shop. Making a beeline through the store, you pointed at the shirt you’d seen in the window and asked for your size.

The shop assistant passed you the tee and pointed you to a fitting room. The door didn’t close, so you had to keep your ass pressed against it while you pulled the shirt over your head. Looking in the mirror for less than a second, you knew it was perfect.

_New York Fucking City,_ right across your tits. He’d hate it, you thought with a gleeful grin.

Buttoning up your jacket over it and shoving your shirt and bra into your purse, the shop assistant rang up your purchase. You pushed a couple of dollar bills over the counter with a smile and called over your shoulder for them to keep the change.

“What’d ya get?”

“Patience,” You teased.

“You know I ain’t got none of that. Think my ma didn’t eat enough vitamin P or whatever the fuck.”

You laughed out loud at that, ushered your man into an alleyway and unbuttoned your jacket. The other men in the alley scattered with a single look from Pale. 

Finally the last button was undone, and Pale lit up like a fuckin’ Christmas tree.

Scoffing and chuckling and reaching out to grab your tits, he couldn’t help but kiss you.

“New York Fuckin’ City, how about that?”

“It’s good to be home,” You smiled, sighed as he ran his thumbs over the thin cotton covering your nipples.

“I bet,” He mumbled as he mouthed down your neck.

“You gonna let me fuck you, now I’ve wined and dined you?”

“Not here,” You moaned, squeezed his shoulders.

“Shit, baby, I’m ready to go. Can’t ya feel it?”

Your pupils were blown wide as he looked into your eyes, begging. You could feel it.

“Call a cab.”

He didn’t even look away from you as he stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled. On cue, you heard brakes screeching.

“Let’s go.”


	2. Jump

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pale plans a vacation for reader, unashamed coronavirus escapism lol. innuendo and foul language!
> 
> firstordermariposa asked:  
> Hello lovely! After 5 weeks of being trapped in the house I wondered if I could request a bit of escapism with some holiday romance with Pale? Many, many thank-you’s in advance!

Pale tossed and turned for weeks over it, your first holiday together. Wanted it to be a surprise but a good one, didn’t want to fuck it up. Looked at Cuba, Puerto Rico, the Bahamas, even Alaska. You’d been working yourself to the bone recently, deserved some time off. 

There was a TV Pale walked past every now and again when he was working his ass off too, and sometimes he’d see some blonde on a boat, singing about the wonders of cruising. It looked a little bit like hell, being stuck on a boat that long, but once he started reading about it, it started looking pretty fucking good.

Entertainment on board, it wouldn’t be Broadway but hell, with your lips around his cock in the back row it didn’t matter, did it? All your meals cooked for you, buffet and fine dining options, sun loungers out on a deck somewhere, docking at a tropical island for the day and snorkelling, whatever you were meant to do on an island.

“Baby, do you gotta minute?”

“Mhm, what is it?”

“Could you get some time off work if you asked real nice? Just a week or so?”

“Probably,” You started to smile and walked over to Pale from where you had been doing your eyebrows in the bathroom. “And by probably, I mean yeah, I’ve been savin’ my vacation days.”

Pale pulled you down into his lap, kissed under your ear. “How’s a vacation sound then?”

“Sounds good, what do ya wanna do?”

“You,” Pale smirked. “I was just thinking I’d do ya somewhere different.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “Where have you booked?”

“Haven’t yet, wanted to check with you first and make sure you wouldn’t hate it or nothin’. You seen those big fuckin’ cruise ships that take you outta Miami?”

“Yeah,” You started to light up, getting all excited.

Pale stroked the side of your face. “How about one of those? Eatin’ and fuckin’ and swimmin’ in the bright sunshine all day. Sounded real nice to me.”

“Where to?”

“Jesus you ask a lotta questions. Don’t gotta be to nowhere, they started selling trips where you just sit and get fed and look out the window and don’t stop anywhere, but wouldn’t that be awful? Anyway the Bahamas or something, a day in Cuba, I think I’d like Cuba.”

“Baby, at the moment even Cubans don’t like Cuba,” You teased, played with your man’s hair. 

“Then we stay on the boat the whole day and fuck, go to shows, go swimming, dancing, whatever. Fuck if I care.”

But you could tell he did care, he’d gone to so much trouble to research all this for you. Knew all the answers to all your questions, had a million ideas about what the two of you would do.

“I’m in, should I pack?”

Pale smiled wide, wider than you’d seen in a while. “Yeah, pack.”

* * * * * * * * 

The flight had been fine, New York to Miami. Pale had rented a car so the two of you could drive around for a few hours before your ship left. Miami looked so alive, crawling with rollerbladers, men kissing men and all sorts.

“Fuckin’ hot as hell. Gonna jump in the pool just as soon as we get on the boat.”

“Same here. Do ya think I have to wear a top?” 

Pale glanced at you and you shot him a wink. 

“You better, Jesus Christ. Think I’d die of heat stroke and a heart attack at the same fuckin’ time. Wouldn’t even fit on my death certificate.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at your man, complaining even now, even here.

“Pale, I love you so goddamn much.”

“Yeah, yeah. Still don’t get it but I believe ya.”

You were quiet for a moment then, content to listen to the pop on the radio. Pale had ceded and let you play the billboard hits for an hour or so while you were driving. It had to be quiet but it made you laugh, seeing this tough grumpy man driving through the neon streets of Miami with Van Halen playing.

“Do you miss Miami?”

Pale was quiet, drummed his fingers across the steering wheel as he thought.

“Some of it.”

You nodded, knew if he wanted to talk about it, he’d keep going on his own.

“The coke here is cheaper, but the cops are all over it. Weather’s good but it gets boring. College kids all over the damn place sometimes. It’d be nice to see my kids more. Nice to have the beaches nice and close. You know, normal shit.”

You nodded and rested your head on his shoulder. 

“You wanna go and say hi to them while we’re close?”

Pale turned his head slightly to kiss your forehead. “Where do you think we’re going?”

You sat upright then, looked at him, surprised.

He smiled. “Yeah I wanna see ‘em. We only got an hour or so left so the missus can’t get too wound up, I’ll be in and out.”

“Am I... Do you want me to-”

“Nah, I’m gonna drop you at the mall if that’s okay. Don’t want you to see it, she gets pretty loud.”

You nodded and went back to resting on his shoulder. “You want anything?”

“Pack of cigarettes, don’t know what else we’re allowed to take. Maybe some Twizzlers.”

You wrinkled your nose. “That your holiday food?”

Pale hummed in affirmation. “Yeah. Helps me get rid of all the tension in my jaw ‘cos it’s like eating rubber.”

You smiled, picturing a younger Pale chowing down on a pack of Twizzlers, chewing real hard.

“C’mere, you’re gonna get all fuckin’ pink on your shoulders.”

“Pale do you got a timer set or somethin’? You’ve been at this every hour on the hour,” You teased.

“It’s hotter out here than it is in New York. You’ll burn easier, just wanna take care of ya.”

“What time do you wanna get dinner?”

“Maybe 6:30, show starts at 8 so that gives us time.”

You nodded, melted into Pale’s touch as he rubbed the sunscreen all over your chest and shoulders.

“Do you wanna go to the restaurant proper? I think it’s Italian or somethin’.”

You hummed as you thought of a basket of dinner rolls with fancy little bowls of butter, then spaghetti and pizza. 

“Yeah, sounds real nice.”

“Can you wear the blue dress? That one with the sparkly shit on it?”

You nodded.

“It’ll look real nice with the ocean and the lights and everything reflecting off ya. We could get a photo taken or whatever.”

“We can get it printed nice and big and hang it in the apartment. Can ya let me read my book for a minute, sweetheart? I’m dying to finish this chapter.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop being a menace.”

Pale picked up his own book, a thriller. You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander down his torso, following the trail of hair from his bellybutton to the band of his swim trunks. 

“You know, we might need to go back to the room for a snack,” You said under your breath. “Getting a little peckish.”

Pale glanced at you over his book. “Oh are we?”

You nodded and pulled your lip into your mouth. “Just let me finish the chapter.”

Pale shuffled a little awkwardly and draped his towel over his lap. 

You didn’t even have to look away from the pages of your novel to know what the sound of the towel moving was. 

“Go jump in the cold pool, you menace,” You teased.

The show was great, the costumes were amazing even if the set was sparse. Pale’s hands had wandered more than you could admit without blushing. In the interest of time before the show, you’d skipped dessert. The 24 hour buffet would serve you well.

While you helped yourself to carrot cake, Pale made small talk with the chef dishing the hot food. 

“Shit shift, huh?”

The chef laughed. 

“New Yorker?” His accent gave his own origin away, and you could sense the rapport that grew straight away.

“Yeah, taking a bit of a break with my girl, wanted to get some sun.”

The chef nodded. “It isn’t a great shift but there are always a few schmucks who come for dessert after the show. Real nice to see the stars though, rather see the sunset than work through sunrise on breakfast.”

“Jesus fuck, you guys gotta be up at four or whatever to serve us assholes cornflakes?”

The chef laughed again, a hearty laugh, and you joined Pale, looped an arm around his waist. 

“Thanks for sticking around, sorry to be one of the post-show schmucks.” You said sheepishly.

“Nah, you guys ain’t got nothing to worry about. Nice to meet someone who actually sees me as a human fuckin’ being.”

Pale nodded in commiseration. 

“What do you do in New York?”

“Restaurant industry, actually,” Pale replied.

“No shit! That’s nice. Manhattan?”

“Yeah, 90 percent of the time. Hey, uh, odd favor to ask but any chance I could come into the kitchen and see what’s going on? Must be a helluva lot of food back there, industrial ovens and shit.”

“Yeah, of course man. Let me hook your girl up with some cream though first, cake gets a little dry this late.”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

“Pale, it’s beautiful.”

“Yeah you are.” Pale swooped in for a kiss.

“Careful, sun’s making you all soft,” You smiled.

“Don’t you worry, I’ll be back to normal as soon as we’re back stateside.”

Pale lay out the picnic blanket on the sand. You smiled at the way the wayfarers sat over his nose. 

“So what’s in that bag of yours?”

“That guy I met the other night, the chef, he gave me a bit of bread and some fruit salad. He said it wasn’t enough to save to put out tonight so it would’ve gone to waste.”

“And this?” You laughed as you pulled out a bottle of champagne. 

“Thought you might like a mimosa or somethin’. Gotta stay hydrated.”

You sighed with a wide smile and lay down on the picnic blanket, soaking up the sun and the love you felt for Pale.

“Thank you.”

Reaching out with your eyes still closed, you fumbled to hold his hand. 

“He’s a nice guy. Might help him out with a job or two once we’re back.”

You hummed. “You getting nervous? All that talk about being back?”

“A little. There’s a reason I’m the top dog over there, I’m the only one who can keep that shit all happening like it needs to. Fingers in a bunch of pies and all that.”

“But you’re glad you’re here?”

“Of course sweetheart. Probably would’ve keeled right over if we’d stayed, I needed a break. Can’t say I feel any less tired with how often we’ve been fuckin’, but still.”

You laughed and swatted at Pale with your hat, then moved it back over your face.

“I checked with some of the crew who know this island and they said you’re all good to whip off your top, even out the tan lines. Locals don’t care.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, so c’mon, roll over. I’ll untie ya.”

You half-heartedly rolled, enough for Pale to reach the strings of your bikini top.

“Don’t go gettin’ too excited,” You teased.

“Too fuckin’ late, I’m hard as a rock just from seeing you in the bikini.”

You laughed. “Pass me a grape or something?”

You stayed on your front for now, didn’t feel like showing off your tits to the whole beach just yet. Pale took a grape out of the salad and extended his hand over to you. With a deadly smirk on your face, you licked the sweet syrup off his fingers, then sucked the grape out of his grip.

“Baby, that ain’t gonna help my situation.”

“C’mon then, I’ll feed you one.” 

Pale’s eyes widened and you laughed as you pulled a piece of melon from the salad. 

He shook his head with a smile and bit the melon from your fingers. “You’re a terror.”

You laughed again and he couldn’t help but smile at the sound.

“What now?”

You glanced at him from under the floppy sun hat.

“Lovers of New York, Book Two: The Terror Goes Tropical.”


	3. Radio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for lots of foul language, turns NSFW towards the end but it’s just innuendo/implied. Big thanks to cowboykylux for humoring my idea and chatting it through with me :))))
> 
> Pale's radio breaks. Hilarity ensues.

Pale’s car radio dies one day while he’s driving to work, so he gets it replaced over the weekend. The radio he had before was much older, much less advanced, and by less advanced, he meant fewer buttons and shit.

Having some limited experience with radios from the odd jobs you’d worked around the city to make ends meet, you set him up with his cassette tapes, give him the crash course of which buttons he needs to know.

When that doesn’t work, _‘I don’t wanna be looking down at that shit while I’m driving and trying to remember’,_ you add little bits of electrical tape in different colors, with your handwriting on each to explain the essential buttons.

_Louder, softer, next track, last track, eject._

It’s all well and good until he has to change his cassette tape about a week later, tired of listening to the same shit that he could hum by himself now. 

By the time he gets home, he’s been listening to the radio all fuckin’ day, even pulled over a couple times to fiddle extra hard, and he just couldn’t get his cassette to play over the radio. Made himself late to a couple meetings, even, fuck.

You hear his car door slamming and him cursing under his breath, drifting up and through the window as he buzzes in.

“It’s Pale. Jesus baby you wouldn’t fuckin’ BELIEVE the day I had, late to shit cos of that goddamn noise box in my car, even pulled over-”

You laugh, let him in, prop the door open and listen for his heavy footsteps on the stairs. 

“Who the FUCK is Sydney Leper and why does she sound like that? Jesus fuck, do you have a cigarette?”

You extend the one you lit for him when you heard him coming up, smile like the perfect thing you are. God he loves you.

“What’s happened, baby?”

“Hang on, let’s go sit on the fire escape. Landlord started getting pissy that the ceiling’s getting all smoky.” 

He pulls off his jacket, passes it to you so the breeze doesn’t get you too cold. taking a deep drag and exhaling it, shaking his head.

“You’re gonna have to fix my radio. I couldn’t get my cassettes to play and the radio just kept going all damn day, whenever I get in the car there’s some fresh hell to grate on my goddamn eardrums. Girls having fun and bullshit, you listen to that?”

“Cyndi Lauper?” You laughed, imagining Pale’s reaction to that. “Yeah.”

Pale sighs again, rolls his eyes and swears a couple more times.

“So how did you fix it?”

Pale scoots closer to you, pulls you on top of him. It’s been a long day away from you, ain’t no reason to sit apart now.

“I didn’t. Yanked the radio out and dumped it on the passenger seat.”

You laughed again at that, ran your hands through his hair. “That’s one way to do it.” 

Pale scoffed. “It all just sounds the same.” He drummed a tempo on your arm and hummed a chord progression. “Buh buh buh buh, duh duh duh duh, buh buh buh, buh, on and on until the world bursts into flame from the friction of bad noises rubbing up on everything.”

“Did you try the AUX button?”

“The what? Honey I tried everything. I hit every button at least twice. Even hit the eject button and tell ya what, I stayed right in my seat and everything. Fuckin’ useless machine.”

Your stomach hurt from how hard you were laughing and you squeezed his hand. “So the flamethrower button didn’t work either?”

“Nah.”

He smiled, watching you wipe tears from your eyes, kissed you.

“You havin’ a good time laughing at me? Not my fault I don’t know about any of this shit. Can you imagine Tchaikovsky trying to get any work done if there was a machine spitting garbage all day?”

You smiled and kissed him back. 

He pulled away, eyes widening. “Shit, can you imagine trying to fuck to shit like that? I’d look like a fuckin’ energizer bunny who’d done a line a mile long. Jesus, my ass would ache for days.”

“Not all that romantic either,” You smiled, teased one of his curls around your finger. “I’ll find a song you’ll like. There’s gotta be something we could fuck to.”

Pale shrugged, moved his head from side to side, appraising the idea. “Maybe.”

“Tell you what, I’ll fix your radio for ya and then you make me dinner?”

“And after that?” Pale got one of his cocky grins.

“I’ll look through my cassettes, find us somethin’. We can go for a drive, park somewhere nice and dark, see if I’m right or not.” You grinned right back.

“You want lobster or lasagna?”


	4. 'What Are You Trying To Do?'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sex! sex and sex! and choking!

It’s been a long day, and an odd one in that it had been longer for you than Pale. That made it all the more torturous, knowing he was at home, waiting for you to get back from your errands and the extra hours you were working this week.

The city seemed more alive than usual, flies and summer bugs emerging from wherever the fuck they lived in the wintertime. It was the time of year that folks didn’t take their trash out ‘til they could hear the truck coming. Not Miami hot, not close, but hot enough that you smiled at the thought of Pale bitching about his internal toaster oven getting him all hot and bothered.

As you started the stairs to your apartment, you tried your best not to run them. How long had it been since you’d seen him? 12 hours? Seemed like way too goddamn long. A man like Pale could soar and crash three times in that long.

Wouldn’t do any good if you were panting at the top of the stairwell, so you breathed and breathed and breathed until you could smell Pale’s cigarette smoke curling out through the gap under the door. 

Your hands shook a little bit as you turned the key in the lock, so excited to see your man behind the door. Sure enough, there he was on the sofa, cigarette between his lips, iced bourbon on the coffee table.

His lips curled into a smile and he let you come to him, drawn to his lap like it was a magnet. Or just like it housed your favorite dick in New York City.

Sighing tiredness and arousal and hunger all in one, you straddled him, plucked the cigarette from his mouth and placed it down in the ashtray. He’d be able to get back to it soon enough.

You ran your manicured hands over the side of his neck, rocking your hips over his. His skin was thin, veins so prominent on his thick neck, everything about him strong.

“What are you trying to do?” He said softly, throat tight with the effort of holding back from fucking you. 

He leaned forward and you leaned back, teasing him. He sighed heavily, and as an apology you kissed down his throat, squeezing a little with your hand that was still on his neck. 

“You wanna choke me out? That what we’re doing?”

You whined in the back of your throat. “You have such a nice neck, I just wanna touch it.”

Pale winked as he slid his hand up the side of your body, making its way to your neck. “I’ll do yours if you do mine.”

You nodded, pouted a little bit as you let your hair down. “You gonna fuck me?”

Pale shook his head, stroked his thumb over your chin. “C’mon honey, be polite.”

“I need you right goddamn now, I need your cock, Pale. Please.”

His hand was nudging you up, off his zipper. You could see the outline of his cock through his jeans as he tried to shuck the denim off his hips. 

You stood up to give him more room, walked around the coffee table and stripped in front of him, tossed your blouse to the floor and gave him a show as you took off your skirt and panties.

His breath quickened as he watched, unbuttoning his black dress shirt and kicking his jeans off his feet. Your bra was the last to go, and you playfully tossed the lace at him. He swatted it away and gestured for you to come back.

Your mouths finally met, desperate as if for a meal that you’d been holding out on devouring. You sank down onto his cock without ceremony, wet from waiting all day for this. Moans flowed freely from your mouth to his, and he fixed one hand in your hair and one on your neck. You smiled into the kiss and returned the favor, planting one hand behind you to steady yourself, and wound the other lightly around his neck.

He groaned as he fucked you, pushing up his hips and trying to match his rhythm to yours so that as you sunk, his hips would rise to meet you. 

“I’m not gonna last, you’re too tight, too good,” His breath hitched and his hand tightened around your neck.

You nodded, he’d found the right pace for you both to come. You stroked your fingers over the side of his neck. 

“Keep going, just like that,” You moaned. His cock was finding those places that made you curse and lose your breath, left you spinning and pushing down hard on him. 

You locked eyes with him, jaw slack as you tried to keep some oxygen in your lungs. The look in your eyes had him done for and he tossed his head back, eyes shutting as he groaned and gave one last strong thrust. 

Words were spilling from his lips, words that didn’t make sense or sentences, but they all sounded like they came from the same section of a thesaurus with a black cover. The sounds that weren’t words were your favorite.

He relaxed completely, catching his breath.

“I thought you didn’t like fucking on the couch?” He teased, reaching for his cigarette. 

You rolled your eyes. “I’ll take a polaroid of how good you look next time. Then you’ll get it.”

He smoothed your hair back with one of his huge hands. “You didn’t finish, did you?”

You shrugged. 

He sighed.

“Tell you what, you eat something then I’ll do a line and fuck you, how’s that sound?”

You weakly lifted your hips a little and sunk back down on him, a devilish smile on your face.

“You particularly attached to doing it in that order?” 


	5. 1981 Indigo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pale's going through his brother's old things after he's passed away and finds a perfume.   
> A year later, you've been dating a while and ask him about the little blue bottle.
> 
> Warnings for side character death, descriptions of grief, internalized homophobia, mentions of cocaine, not being nice to retail workers

Pale had been handed the job of looking after all of Robbie’s clothes. It was awful, really. Had to pick out the suit and all that shit, laid it out on the bed and thought about how narrow Robbie’s frame was compared to his.

He thought for a moment that Dom might want some of it. A sweatshirt or something but no, that couldn’t happen, could it? Dom was gone, just as cold and gone as Robbie. 

Droplets of water dissipated into the bedsheets, making Pale realize he was crying. He pushed at them, tried to rub them into the cotton in case somebody came up here. 

All the clothes were spread out on the bed, Robbie’s bed. The spare bed. They were colorful, most of them, others muted. Pale guessed those were his dance clothes, the grey tank tops and the sweatpants. Tears spilled down his cheeks again thinking about Robbie dancing. He wished he’d seen it. 

Who was the girl that came to the family house? Anne or something? Maybe she’d want some of it, a shirt or whatever. He had to ask her first, right? Pale dabbed at his nose and decided that was a good enough reason to stop.

With his hand near his nose, he caught a whiff of something. Coconut?

He sniffed again. There was definitely a perfume, something too fuckin’ floral for any man to wear. Pale rolled his eyes at himself. 

_Leave him alone, you fuck. He’s dead, can’t tell him his perfume is too girly now. You’re just making fun of a dead man. You really ain’t got nothin’ better to do?_

Pale held up one of the tank tops and inhaled. He hated it, it was all fruity or woody or whatever the fuck they said. It smelled like someone he’d rather not meet. Smelled like something from a department store when it was too hot out to stay on the street.

He headed to the bathroom, opened up all the doors, searched through them with vigor but with no particular attention to where he’d already looked. He felt like he was on coke. Was he on coke?

Looking down at his leather jacket, he patted all his pockets, feeling for a vial. Finding one in the front pocket of his jeans, he didn’t know if he’d rather be on coke or not. If he was, then he was a coward for not being able to cope without it, an addict. So hooked he couldn’t even feel that he’d just done a line.

If he wasn’t, well then he was just going insane.

Either way, the vial was half empty.

_Half full, you son of a bitch. Don’t go getting all pessimistic now. Ain’t no reason to do that._

He held the top up to his face again and sniffed. Shitty as the perfume was, he wanted to know what it was at least. Wanted to ask his brother what perfume he wore, even if he’d never bothered while he was alive. 

Was he a shitty brother or was he just busy?

Sharp pain radiated from his crown when he struck his head on the medicine cabinet. He hadn’t checked there, behind the mirror. Pushing one hand into his hair, he opened the door with his free hand and saw a short blue bottle. 

_1981 Indigo: Eau de Cologne_

He sprayed some into the air and sniffed, then checked his hand for blood. Glad to find none, he cried. Told himself it was from hitting his head.

It was this one. Sweet, coconut. It was light, like him. Pure light.

Pushing the leather encasing his forearm into his mouth, he sobbed loudly. He kicked the door closed with his foot and let himself curl into a ball of shaking limbs. The tiles under his ass were cold through his jeans.

He didn’t know how long he was on the floor. Didn’t say a word to anybody when he walked downstairs and straight out the door, into his car. The door slammed when he got in, handbrake protested when he shoved it down so hard it almost went through the car and into the earth. Then carefully, delicately, he rested the little blue bottle in the passenger seat. Gave half a thought to strapping it in with a seatbelt, then made up his mind just to drive carefully.

There had to be a shop somewhere, a Saks or something. He drove and drove and drove until he came to a street with shops on it. Macy’s.

He slammed his car door again, cupped the bottle like an egg, could almost close his fist around the glass.

“I need another one of this.”

“Sir, this is the Chanel counter. The one you’re looking for is a little further down.”

“Can’t they just put them all together, what the fuck,” Pale sighed, already three-quarters of the way to the right counter. 

“I need this.”

“Of course Sir, right away. Is there something wrong with that one?”

The salesman reached for the bottle and Pale snatched his hand back. 

“No. This one’s fine.”

Pale grabbed the box from the poor man’s hand just as soon as he’d pulled out a fresh, neatly packaged perfume, identical to the one in Pale’s other hand. 

He paid, hastily, sliding an extra twenty across the counter cos he’d counted so fast, called out a ‘thanks’ over his shoulder as he flew back into his car and slammed the accelerator all the way back to Manhattan.

_**a year later** _

You’re on the couch in Pale’s apartment, all wrapped up in one of his throw blankets. You think that you don’t wanna know what he spent on them, cashmere, maybe, soft whatever they were.

It smells like something soft, something you wouldn’t picture Pale smelling like. Like laundry that a distant relative did for you once while you were crashing at their place. 

A little bit like coconut, but warmer. The coconut was all wrapped up in a blanket too, like you. 

“Hey Pale,” you called, hoping it would carry into the kitchen.

“Yeah doll?” You heard the knife moving evenly over the chopping board, could imagine the perfect little cubes of potato or carrot that he was making.

“What’s this perfume on your blanket?”

“Huh?” The knife stopped. Moments later, Pale stepped from the kitchen and walked towards the couch. He held the blanket to his nose for a moment.

He looked like a mountain with mist settling over it, solid, distant. 

You gently stroked his arm. “Ain’t gotta go into it if you don’t want to. I just like it, that’s all.”

He shook his head and refocused his eyes on you. 

“It’s my brother’s. Robbie’s.”

You nodded and kissed his cheek, pulled him down onto the couch and tucked his feet under the blanket. 

“It smells like a dancer. Smells like he was light on his feet. That doesn’t make any sense,” You laughed softly.

Pale shook his head again. “It does. It does, makes a lot more sense than you know. He was always light. Dancing made sense for him. He was happy, moved like a happy person. There was just something about him that was light.”

You kissed his cheek, didn’t know how else to help. 

“Lemme finish making dinner.”

The next morning, Pale has to be up too too early, before the sun’s even made its way into the sky early. 

He washes his face, brushes his teeth, as quietly as he can with those big fuckin’ feet of his. Once he’s done, he opens the little medicine cabinet, looks into the left hand corner, and there, tucked safely away, is the little blue bottle. It’s a little dusty, so Pale brushes his fingers over it reverently. 

Walking on his toes so he doesn’t make a sound (even if his shoes pinch his toes when he walks like this), he creeps back into the room, leaves the bottle on the nightstand. He’d give you a kiss on the cheek if you weren’t such a light sleeper. You look like an angel or something that shouldn’t be here, in his bed. Something he doesn’t deserve but has always wanted.

Driving to work, he pictures the little blue bottle, stout and round on your nightstand. The level of the cologne hasn’t changed in all this time. The last person who uncapped it and sprayed it was Robbie. Now it’d be you.

It seems right, seems like Robbie wanted this, Robbie wanted to give his blessing or something. Besides, it was the cologne that Pale wore now too, even if he’d always bought his own bottle instead of using Robbie’s. It had grown on him, he thought. He liked the smell now, couldn’t think of wearing anything else. 

Pale glanced through the passenger window and caught a glimpse of the sun peeking over the horizon, warming up the East River. 

White light moved across the surface of the water. 


	6. 'It's Just... You're Mine'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pale gets jealous/possessive after seeing a picture of you next to a well-groomed, handsome young gentleman. You reassure him.
> 
> Warnings for possessiveness and jealousy, playing with boobs
> 
> anonymous asked:  
> Hi congratulations on ur milestone🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉 may I please request “I’m not jealous! it’s just…you’re mine!” With our Jersey man pale I’m a weak bitch for him getting possessive

You smile down at the faded Polaroid, rub your fingers over the ballpoint pen caption.

_December 1979_

“What’s that, sweetheart?”

“An old picture from the holidays a few years ago, my cousin, then Brendon, then that’s me on the right.”

He chuckled and stroked your cheek. “I can tell that’s you. You look pretty. Who’s Brendon?”

Pale looked tense, his jaw tight and eyes slightly narrowed. You knew what that look meant, knew to take his hand and squeeze it tight.

“Hey, easy. It’s just my cousin’s boyfriend. No need to be jealous, he’s not even my type.”

“I’m not jealous.” He kissed your knuckles. “It’s just... You’re my girl, you know? You’re mine. I don’t wanna think about you being that close to another schmuck.”

You interlaced your fingers with his. “I wasn’t close with him, he was just close to my age, you know? Didn’t listen to the oldies but not nursery rhymes either. There were slim pickings for people to talk to.”

“And he was dating your cousin?”

“Exactly. You ever gonna accept that I’m not gonna run away?”

Pale smiled with half his mouth, somehow frowned at the same time. The whole expression was pained.

“Nah. Kennedys are gun-shy, Pale’s shit scared of people he loves leavin’ him. Kicked dog’s scared of boots. It’s all the same.”

Heavily, he sat down on the couch beside you.

Without meaning to, you frowned. “I’m yours Pale. I mean it.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, hummed in the way that meant he’d heard you but it hadn’t made it through his head. 

“C’mon, take my tits in your hands, lemme tell you I love you.”

“Don’t need to say that shit. Just say you’re all mine. Ain’t nobody else with their hands here.” He traced his thumb over the curve of your nipple.

You smiled. “All yours, Pale. Only other person touching these tits is me.”

He sighed, leaned into your tits and warmed his face there, his nose pressing into your sternum.

“What’s your type then?” He mumbled into the warm skin.

You paused for a minute, putting your words in order.

“Assholes from Midtown with greasy long hair who snort coke and talk too fast. But he’s gotta live on East 53rd and Lexington, gotta drink so much VSOP that it runs in his veins, so much VSOP that he changes his name to Pale. And if he ain’t the Pale that’s got his face in my tits right now, I don’t want him.”

He glances up at you then, eyes molten and full of something new. Something like hope. Something like a future.

“I’m really yours Pale. I don’t wanna be anybody else’s.”

Tiredly, he pressed kisses to your neck and chest. “It was a long day. Don’t know if I have energy to do anything tonight.”

“That’s a shame. Was gonna say you could pick me out a tattoo or something and I could go get it,” You teased. 

“Oh baby, it’s picked. It’s been picked forever.”

He traced over your collarbone.

_V.S.O.P._


	7. Raw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pale tries to impress reader by making a fashionable new dish that's just come to new york city. Reader realizes it must be some sort of special occasion (a little sad at the end).
> 
> I cannot for the life of me find a reliable source online that backs me up about sushi becoming popular in New York in the 1980s, so y’all will just have to trust me or google it your damn selves !
> 
> I'm vegetarian so reader is vegetarian, it's not a major plot point I just didn't want to write myself eating fish 💕

You’d been relegated to topping and tailing the green beans, preparing the vegetables for the salad, while Pale made the rice. He’d insisted he do almost all the work, with his _‘now why would I make you do all that shit, huh? You got me, don’t ya?’_

He was so excited, coming home from work with those bamboo mats and all kinds of stuff you’d heard him tell you about, but had never seen. A few weeks ago he’d been falling asleep next to you, sweaty as all hell, mumbling something about seaweed all dried up. He explained it the next morning when you asked about it, all the components, how technical it was.

The first place had just opened in Manhattan a couple months ago, so Pale was on a mission to figure out how to make this stuff himself, how to get it into the restaurants he oversaw.

“Say, Pale, how do I know you aren’t just doin’ all this to impress me?”

You set down the knife on the chopping board, turned around and looked salacious, leaning with your back against the kitchen island.

He was still focused on the rice, on setting out the seaweed just so on the little mats. You smiled without meaning to, watching your man in his element.

“What’s that?”

“Are you trying to impress me?”

“Why’d I be doin’ that? You’re already my girl, aren’t you?”

You hummed and walked over to him, rested your head on his shoulder and smiled, so happy with having him here. Cooking for you, loving on you. It’s all you needed.

“Course I am.”

“Then I got no reason to impress you, hm?” He cracked a smile and pressed a kiss to your forehead because he couldn’t quite reach your lips. “So stop askin’. Ain’t none of that.”

“Mhm,” You hummed, pressed your lips together knowingly. “Show me how to cut the carrots again?”

“I can’t baby, I gotta make sure this rice is just right. Can’t be too dry or too sticky or too chewy or nothin’.”

“How about the cucumbers?”

He rolled his eyes then, folded his arms across his chest.

“Same as the carrots. Matchsticks.”

“Foreskin or no foreskin?”

Your eyes twinkled with mischief and you exclaimed as Pale came at you, lifted you off the ground and kissed all down your neck.

“You’re a terror.”

“I’m your terror.”

He shook his head, pressed his face into your chest and mumbled that you made him dizzy.

You combed your fingers through his hair and he swatted at you. 

“I washed it last night, keep your paws outta there.”

You rolled your eyes, imitated the little sigh he made when he rolled his.

He laughed then, from his chest, and went back to the rice. Careful not to disturb the pot too much, he took a spoonful and tasted it.

“Pale?”

“Hm?”

“Do you want the skin on or not?”

“Yeah.”

He tucked the whole spoon into his mouth, pressed his tongue up into it to test the texture of the rice. Nodding, he rested the spoon on the little thing next to the stovetop.

“It’s ready.”

He took the pot off the stove and walked over to you, tucked his hips above yours and pressed his whole body into yours.

“Gimme your hand.”

You reached around the both of you and took a handful of his ass. Exasperated but so in love, he groaned your name. 

Humoring him, you reached out your hand and he took it in his, showed you again how to hold the knife. His left hand came around your side to hold the cucumber, and he pressed the knife through the vegetable, taking a break between each stroke.

You let your head drop back into his chest, sighed because you thought you’d never get happier. Always so happy as long as he was close to you.

“You’re gonna cut your fingers off.”

“You’ll make sure I won’t.”

“Are you being a brat on purpose?”

Your head dropped forward then, turned around to face him. “I didn’t mean nothin’ by it. Am I bothering you?”

He took your chin in his hand, kissed you firmly.

As he pulled away, he spoke so softly you almost didn’t hear it. The words were just for you, you thought. Nobody else would ever hear them, these mumbled words in the kitchen of his apartment.

_“Maybe I just wanna make a nice dinner for my lady and she ain’t actin’ like a lady. What’s a guy to do?”_

“Sorry Pale, I didn’t know. I can go do my hair and dress up if you want me to-”

He shook his head. “I like havin’ you here. It’ll take you an hour on the fuckin’ subway there and back.”

You kissed his cheek softly. “I’ll stop being a menace.”

“Not for too long, alright?” He winked.

Nodding towards his fridge, you got back to chopping the vegetables for the sushi, halving the green beans and flicking out all the little beans, keeping the crispy outside intact.

“You’d better start on that fish, VSOP, the rice is gonna get cold.”

He pulled the tray of salmon out of the fridge and set it down on the chopping board opposite yours, on the other side of the island.

“Princess.”

You looked up, this was new.

“I uh, I love you. You don’t bother me. We’re just playin’, I know that. I love that you’re a little menace.”

He kept talking, words coming faster as he chopped faster. Seconds later, the whole fish was in perfect little pieces, and he sighed as he caught his breath.

“What’s up, Pale?”

You reached over the island and rested your hand over his, careful to avoid the knife.

He looked over at the other side of the kitchen, anything that wasn’t your eyes.

“It’s my kid’s birthday. I normally gotta do this all alone and it’s nice to have you here.”

You nodded. “If you wanna call him, I can go sit in another room, or whatever you want. I’ll do anything you wanna do.”

Pale drifted around the kitchen, collecting all the things he needed and arranging them on the island. Mats, the fish, the matchstick vegetables, the rice.

“Thanks.”

He pressed a kiss to your cheek as he drifted past with the seaweed.

“Do you uh, think he’d want a call?”

You nodded, measured your reaction so you wouldn’t overwhelm him. “I think so.”

Pale nodded, sliced the fish and looked like an expert doing it. And to think he was new to this.

“Is it okay if I have mine without fish?”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “Don’t trust me?”

“I’m vegetarian, I wasn’t sure if you could make sushi without the fish, but if you can’t I’ll just-”

“Nuh uh, we’ll just make yours with vegetables. Don’t even worry about it.”

“Thank you,” You smiled. walked behind him and wrapped your arms around his middle, pressing your cheek against his back.

“When were you gonna tell me? Shit, does that mean all the times you’ve swallowed-”

You laughed, walked back over to the sink and started doing dishes.

“I dunno, I thought when we start goin’ out places, or if we moved in together I’d mention it. I didn’t want it to be a big deal or nothin’.”

Pale snuck a piece of the fish that he’d ‘accidentally’ sliced too thin into his mouth. “I’ll just eat salmon bagels for the next couple days, doesn’t bother me at all.”

He started rolling up the mat, with the rice and seaweed all wrapped up inside.

“You have been practicing!”

“Yeah, well I ain’t gonna give my girl mercury poisoning or a loose roll or none of that shit.”

You smiled, silent for a few moments while he focused on making the rolls. 

Once he was finished, you touched his arm softly. 

“Do you want a cake or something? I know it isn’t my place...”

“I uh, I got one in the fridge. It’s just some funfetti bullshit, just a cupcake cos...”

It’s just him, you thought as he trailed off. He’d been doing this alone for years and only ever bought a cupcake. Didn’t need anything bigger.

“Oh Pale, you make my heart hurt.”

“Don’t say that. I wanna make you happy.”

You wrapped him in a tight hug. “Anything you wanna do, we do it, alright?”

He pressed a kiss to the side of your forehead. “You’re an angel, you know that?”

A smile tugged at your lips.

“I thought I was a menace?”


	8. I Know Better Than To Ask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pale does some shady shit. You know this, even if you never ask.
> 
> warnings for guns, drugs, and money. innuendo and cocaine. Use of the word 'whore' towards reader.

Swaying your hips seductively from side to side, you hummed as you ascended the stairs from the restaurant to the offices above it. Pale would be here, in his corner office, even if the blinds were drawn.

“Hi Pale,” You leaned in the doorway, thought the two of you must have looked like something out of a mob movie, or a film noir.

He paused and glanced over his shoulder, thumb frozen in the middle of a stack of bills.

“Sweetheart. You’re early.”

You sauntered over and perched on the edge of his desk. He nudged you off and patted his lap instead. Happy to oblige, you sat on his knee as he finished counting the bills. 

Gesturing widely to the desk, he opened his mouth, but couldn’t find what he wanted to say just yet.

“You look a little tied up, want me to come back later?” You teased.

“Nah, just didn’t want you to sit down and get powder all on your skirt.”

Lifting his chin with a manicured finger, you looked down your nose at him. 

“You do this often?”

He playfully took your finger between his and bit it softly. “Who’s askin?”

Laughing lightly, you withdrew your finger. “Who’s askin?”

He rolled his eyes and kissed you then, rolled his tongue over yours and tugged at your bottom lip as he pulled away.

“Vinnie,” Pale paused to swipe at the lipstick on his mouth with the back of his hand, “was out today doing something more important. I’m good with numbers, so.”

You hummed in agreement. “You know, it’s pretty hot seeing you with all this shit next to you.” 

Pale nodded as you flicked some of the bills between your fingers. 

“Careful, don’t touch anything else, alright? The bills are fine cos they’ve got a million prints on ‘em, but the rest of the shit is clean.”

“What about your fingerprints?” Your brow furrowed, the idea of Pale in danger doing something in your stomach.

He shook his head and slid his hand up the side of your leg. “Between playing the piano and working with hot shit in the kitchen, I ain’t got any.”

Eyes slightly wide, you let out a soft moan, nice and high pitched. You took Pale’s free hand and rested the pad of his ring finger over your tongue, then swept your tongue over it a few times, pretending to feel for texture.

Surprisingly, it was slightly smoother than you imagined a fingertip would be. Funny that you’d never noticed it before.

Pale’s eyes darkened and he wiped his finger on his pants. “You’re a real brat, you know? Sittin’ on my lap like this and you still wanna be sure you got my full attention.”

You ran your palm over the front of his pants with a devilish smile. “Well, it sure feels like you’re at attention.”

His grip on your thigh tightened as he sucked in a sharp breath through his nose.

“So, are you gonna take me out to dinner or...?” You smirked.

Pale shook his head and stood up, sending you slipping off his thigh and stumbling to your feet. You heard the sound of his drawer opening as he fished out his keys and looped them around his finger. As you stood upright, you saw him grinning down at you.

“Nope. I’m gonna take you to the back seat of the car and show you what happens if you sit on my lap and act like a whore.”


	9. Hotter than Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Innuendo! (this was for an event where I kept answers to 500 words and I couldn't fit in true smut and a set up smh)
> 
> anonymous asked:  
> Hi Hannah!!!!! I absolute love ur writing, you’re one of my favorites! Can i request Pale with the “Say that again, and you won’t walk right tomorrow.” smut? pretty please and thank u sm 🥰

Pale’s leaning back against the headboard, a cigarette between his teeth and his arm thrown around your shoulders. His chest is so built, so wide and strong. 

His pajama pants are dark charcoal and fleecy, slung low across his hips. You had fooled around for a while but it was too hot to really do anything, so you’d thrown a window open and waited for the sun to set.

It was heaven, with his fingers brushing lightly over the skin of your arm, a cool breeze coming through the window, sending the drapes fluttering.

His chain glinted in the low light as he breathed. It was too early to sleep, even for him, and he wanted the rest. You could tell he wasn’t thinking about you as he sucked down his cigarette. He was still keeping the plates spinning on the sticks, finding solutions to problems that weren’t his. 

He sighed out the smoke, careful to tilt his head slightly so it wouldn’t hurt your eyes. You were precious. He never wanted to do anything to hurt you, inconvenience you, bother you. 

You didn’t try to hide the fact that you were admiring his body. The light sheen of sweat over his pale skin emphasized his strength from years of working his way up the ladder by carrying boxes to and from restaurants, lifting heavy pans...

Tenderly, you swept your fingers across his chest. He hummed softly in appreciation.

“You’re so hot, Pale,” You sighed, lazily kissing the bicep close to your head. 

“Hot like what, dollface?”

“Hot like sexy. So fuckin’...” You sighed with arousal. “I can’t stand it.”

He smiled and pressed a kiss to your hair.

“Uh huh. Why don’t ya tell me what’s so sexy about me.”

You looked over his body once more and tapped your chin.

“Well, you’re strong, handsome, you have beautiful eyes...”

You moaned softly and slid down the bed, out of his grasp. “God, Pale, I’d just want you to fuck me all the time if you weren’t so goddamn big and rough. Dammit, I do want you to fuck me all the time.”

Pale looked at you pointedly. “Careful. You say shit like that and you ain’t gonna walk right tomorrow.”

With a glimmer in your eye, you smirked. “Well, it’s a good thing I don’t gotta go anywhere.”

He leaned over to his bedside table and stubbed out his cigarette.

“Funny. I don’t think I have any commitments either.”

You hummed and dramatically pretended to consider it.

He moved so he was at the same level as you on the bed, giving your hip a squeeze.

“What do you say, sweetheart? Wanna fuck up the sheets?”


	10. Come And Get Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 74, 75, 100 from the smut prompts for Pale, please. Congratulations and thank you!  
> [“Can he make you come this fast, huh? Did he ever fuck you this good?”, “Come on, dollface, I know you’re louder than that.”, “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever even met that asshole.”] I changed the original prompts a little bit to fit Pale's way of speaking
> 
> I’ve been wanting to write something cathartic about my ex, so I used this prompt to explore that a little bit, I hope that’s okay! Warnings for smut, mentions of an abusive previous relationship, threats by an ex (no detailed descriptions of abuse). Uses of bitch and slut against reader. Violence against ex and brief mention of a firearm.

“Pale?” Your voice was shaky through the landline. 

“Yeah?”

“Come and get me.”

There was a click as you heard him hang up the phone.

You’d gone over to your ex’s place to pick up the last of your things, to tell him that this was the last time he’d ever see you, not to bother calling again.

“But baby...”

“Don’t call me that. I’m only here for these,” You held up the tote bag of your linens. 

“You’re gonna regret this. I’m gonna make it to Wall Street and you’re gonna beg on your knees like a slut for me to take you back. You know where you’re gonna end up? A fuckin’ ditch.” He huffed a laugh. “A bitch in a ditch. Get the fuck out.”

“Uh -huh,” You said matter-of-factly. “And I’m leaving because you’re an asshole. You’re an asshole who isn’t gonna have a girl until he learns not to treat her like shit.”

Your heels clicked on the linoleum as you walked to the front door, glad to leave this piece of shit and his shitty apartment behind you. It had been months since you’d ended things, but it had taken you that long to change your phone number, figure out whose shit was whose, change the locks, tell your landlord that this guy was now a trespasser. 

Pale, the guy you’d been seeing for a month or two, had been a dream. So helpful, supportive. A little cold at first, but you could tell it just came from being too hot too fast, scared of being rejected again if he’d already gone all in.

“Who’s this guy who’s coming to pick you up, huh? Some pimp? A dealer?”

You rolled your eyes, of course he’d follow you out onto the steps of the apartment. Pale had driven past a second ago, you knew he’d just be finding parking.

“He works in the restaurant industry. He has the biggest cock I’ve ever seen, twice the size of yours I’d say. And he fucks me so well! Makes me come, and moan, and whine, and...” You smiled. 

“You’re asking for it now, bitch. Gonna bust that lip.”

“No the fuck you aren’t.” 

Pale came stomping down the pavement, tossed you the keys to his car. “Get in, beautiful. I’ll deal with this schmuck.”

Sighing with relief, you turned and walked away, closing the Swiss army knife you’d tucked between your fingers just in case.

“So you’ve been aiding and abetting this little slut, helping her cheat, huh?”

You flinched slightly as you heard a sharp crack, the impact of bone on bone. 

“Don’t ever come near her again. She has a Glock, I have a Glock. Actually, I have a couple. One in my car, one in my nightstand...”

There was a click. 

“I think you can tell where the third one is. Get the fuck back inside.”

You heard footsteps scrambling up stairs, the door slammed and locked. Pale caught up with you, offered you his arm.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine, just need a hot bath. Jesus Pale, do you really have that many guns?”

He laughed lightly, stroked your hand. “Nah. We have one at the restaurant and I have one in my apartment. It’s locked though, little box under my nightstand, if you ever need it. Code’s 177.”

You nodded, rested your head against his bicep.

There was something about the way Pale was so in charge, something almost Bonnie and Clyde about the way he made you so confident. Whatever it was, your lips were on his the second you were through the door of the apartment. His mouth was hot, needy on yours.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever even met that asshole.”

“Please, Pale,” You gasped.

He yanked his fly down while you unzipped your skirt, not even bothering to take off your shirt or shoes. If Pale wanted to see your tits, he’d just shred your shirt with his hands.

Breathing heavily, he rubbed his fingers over your clit a few times, fingered you for a minute or two so he wouldn’t hurt you or anything. With one short thrust, he was most of the way inside you, it only took a few more shallow thrusts before he’d bottomed out and was groaning into your ear.

He knew where your G-spot was. Knew that if he pulled up your hip just a little, held it there at the right angle, that he’d find-

You cried out loudly, melted into his touch.

“Yes, Pale! Just like that!”

“Come on, dollface, I know you’re louder than that.”

You were too wound up, too ready to come. Just looking at Pale, the way his chain swung as he fucked you, the way his lips parted as he tried to keep his breathing even... It was enough to send you careening towards the edge.

“Touch my clit, Pale, God! I’m so close,” You whined.

He rubbed over your clit, drew the bead out by nudging his fingers up your slit. Rough moans spilled out of you as he drew circles with his index and middle finger. 

“Can he make you come this fast, huh? Did he ever fuck you this good?”

You just about screamed, pushed your hips down into his hips, his hands. Your voice was broken as you chanted his name again and again, body moving in ways that you weren’t trying to move it.

Pale couldn’t tell if you were crying, tried to pull out for a bit, slow down or something.

“Don’t you fucking stop, fucking, I love this,” You panted, caught your breath. “C’mon, Pale, come in me. Fill me up.”

He moaned, groaned, grunted, and it turned into a growl as he snapped his hips against yours, single-minded in chasing his climax.

“Good girl,” He growled. “Fucking love my cock, huh?”

You nodded, bit your lip, had enough of your brain left to think that you could come again if he kept this up. Thinking of Pale’s pleasure, you pulled your shirt up to your throat, pulled up your bra too.

Taking your tits in your hands, you pushed them together, showed Pale how they bounced as he pushed you up the bed.

He came with a shout, let himself fall forward a little before he caught himself on his forearms, pushing his face into your tits as he kept coming, kept coming. 

“Yes,” He said softly, grunting and grazing his teeth over your tits. “Yes.”


End file.
